


Prisoner

by celeste9



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angry Sex, Biting, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies, Hate Sex, Humiliation, M/M, Mild Blood, Mocking, Power Play, Rough Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:06:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: When Hux is taken prisoner by the Resistance, he finds himself the captive of Poe Dameron, who has more than enough reasons to hate Hux and, by extension, to greatly enjoy this set of circumstances. Hux, however, is keen to exert what little power he has left, in whatever way he can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure who to blame for this, but I suspect it's some combination of Tumblr (you know who you are), my OTP Poe/everyone, Ex Machina, and Oscar and Domhnall. And myself. Mostly me, probably.
> 
> Implied Finn/Rey and unrequited Finn/Poe. Also, no condoms. Do they have condoms in Star Wars? If they do, they aren't using them.

The cell was small and bare, slightly damp. It was a humid, wet planet, ghastly, really. Hux almost preferred Starkiller. The binders were too tight around his wrists and he knew his fragile skin would bruise.

He saw no one for quite some time, after the foot soldiers had thrown him in here. He wondered who would do the interrogating. General Organa herself? Or would she trust this most valuable prisoner to another?

Hux was almost surprised when it was the pilot who came through the door. Dameron, the one who had been so difficult to break.

He supposed if Organa had trusted this man with her brother she must trust him with anything.

“How the tables have turned,” Hux said. “Isn’t that what we’re meant to say in a situation like this?”

Dameron leaned against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest, as if he wanted to project an attitude of carelessness. Hux knew it had to be forced – as cavalier with his own safety as he had been on the _Finalizer,_ there was no way he couldn’t be remembering the things Hux had done to him.

Well, not Hux personally, of course. He preferred not to dirty his hands with such sordid business. Hux had certainly given the orders, however, and had even watched some of it.

“Or ‘fancy meeting you here,’ maybe,” Dameron said.

“You must be pleased. Poetic justice.”

Dameron shrugged. “Can’t say I ever cared to see your face again, though I have to admit this is sort of satisfying.”

“And certainly a boon to your pathetic cause, I expect.”

“That’s the hope.”

“I had begun to wonder if you’d forgotten about me. We never did leave you alone long, did we? Though I suppose we were on a bit of a schedule.”

Dameron didn’t flinch. “You look a lot less bloody than I did.” 

“There’s still time.”

“The Resistance doesn’t stoop to torture.”

“No wonder you’re losing.”

Dameron snorted. “Remind me again who destroyed whose superweapon? And who’s sitting in the cell?”

“You must realize that I will tell you nothing.”

Dameron’s jaw tightened. “I thought that once, too.” He pushed off from against the door and strode back out.

Hux remembered that the First Order were not the only ones with Force users. Two, certainly, the Jedi and his apprentice, perhaps three, if the rumors about the traitor were true. 

Four, if you counted the general.

He swallowed, glad that Dameron had gone before he could see such a display of weakness.

-

They fed him, which was something. Perhaps they counted starvation as a torture method. They declined to remove his binders, however, which made the act of eating even more awkward and undignified than it inherently was.

Once Dameron delivered Hux’s meal himself and sat in the chair opposite him. His aim was clear but Hux refused to give him the satisfaction. They stared at each other for a quarter of an hour until Dameron went back out, taking the tray with him.

Personally Hux felt the hunger pains were worth it.

There was a receptacle in the corner for his physical needs and even a bed of sorts, a cot hauled in by two droids. It was easily the least comfortable place Hux had ever slept but it was better than the floor. A kindness the First Order had never offered to Dameron, that was certain. 

After Dameron and the droids that delivered his meals, the first visitor Hux received was the traitor, FN-2187. He was wearing a battered pilot’s jacket, the back sewn up haphazardly. Perhaps the Resistance was even worse off than Hux had suspected.

“An unexpected pleasure,” Hux said from his chair. “FN-2187.”

The traitor stepped farther into the room. “I don’t answer to that anymore. You can call me Finn just like everyone else does.”

Hux had heard the name before but he chose to deny the traitor the satisfaction of knowing that. “Finn. How quaint. Come up with it yourself?”

“Poe’s idea. He had more respect for me after five minutes than you did throughout my entire service, no matter how well I did.”

The jacket, Hux suddenly realized. It was Dameron’s. He had worn it on the _Finalizer._ Or else it was one very much like, but Hux suspected he was correct. That was interesting.

“On the contrary,” he said. “Captain Phasma often spoke of your successes. We had high hopes for you.”

FN-2187 seemed slightly surprised but he pushed that away quickly. “So long as I did as I was told.”

“The mark of every good soldier.”

“To not think for themselves?”

“To obey their betters.”

The traitor kept moving forward until he was standing near the table, looking down at Hux. The angle was clearly intentional. “And what makes you any better than me? The gray uniform rather than the armor of a stormtrooper?”

“I earned my place. You could have, too.”

FN-2187 shook his head, light in his eyes as if he truly believed what he was saying, like an idealistic fool. “The First Order cares nothing for those who make up its ranks, not even when they’re generals. You might have held more power but you were always as expendable as me.”

“And this undisciplined rabble, you think this is better? You think they can _help_ the galaxy’s sorry lifeforms? The New Republic was a joke, stymied by a stagnant Senate whose members couldn’t stop arguing with each other long enough to do anything.”

“I don’t know about the New Republic,” the traitor admitted. “It didn’t seem to work well. What I do know is that whatever government we build will be better than living under Snoke’s thumb.” 

Idealism tempered by realism. For all his faults, FN-2187 never failed to be interesting. “I hardly think you’ll ever find out. They’re looking for me. You know what they’ll do, if they discover your base.”

Hux was privy to far too many secrets. The First Order would kill him before letting the Resistance have him. 

If they found this base, they would raze it to the ground.

“I do,” FN-2187 said. “I’m just curious why you don’t seem to care.”

“Should I?”

“Why remain loyal to something that will kill you? After all your service, they will still call you expendable. You’re a security risk that needs to be expunged.”

“I fail to see your point.”

“You might have a name but you’re still nothing but a number to them. One that can be replaced by the next eager officer in line.”

“So you think I should simply give in to you instead? Call myself a traitor like you?”

FN-2187 shrugged, the careless gesture at odds with the conviction he had been speaking with. “You might live longer.”

Hux laughed. “General Organa will have me executed as soon as I no longer have anything useful to say.”

“She will give you a trial.”

“A trial, yes, just to show you aren’t barbarians. And then I will be found guilty of my crimes and executed. No, thank you. If I’m to die either way I’d rather keep my pride.”

“Your pride?” FN-2187 snorted. “That’s worth dying for?”

“When you said I have a name-- I do. That means something to me.” Hux smiled, showing his teeth. “Besides. I would rather die than raise a single fingertip to help you.” 

The traitor’s lips turned down in a scowl. “That can be arranged, with or without the trial. You won’t find a lack of volunteers.”

“Starting with your pilot friend, perhaps?”

The scowl morphed into something that was almost amused. “Poe believes in doing things right, even where you’re concerned. Me, though? I’d love to wrap my fingers around your skinny neck, for Hosnian Prime, for the troopers, but especially for Poe.”

“Then why don’t you? I don’t see a security cam in here.”

“Because I can do things right, too.” FN-2187 turned to leave, though he stopped just before the door. “And he wouldn’t want me to.”

Hux gazed at the door for some time after it slid back shut. FN-2187 in Dameron’s jacket calling himself by Dameron’s name, trying to live by Dameron’s ideals. The most obvious answer was usually the right answer, but in this case…

No. The answer was more fun than that, Hux was certain.

-

Hux was actually looking forward to seeing Dameron next. Not just as a way to halt his boredom but because Dameron was fascinating. Hux couldn’t wait to toy with him. 

He knew which of them was wearing the binders. He knew his days here were limited. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still exert his own powers of control.

It didn’t go quite as planned, however. Dameron came in while Hux was on his back on the small cot and said, “Up.”

Hux took his time. “Are we taking a day trip?”

Dameron pulled him by the arm none too kindly until Hux was on his feet. “It’s your lucky day. You get to wash.”

Surprised, Hux only managed, “What?”

“You stink. If I’m going to be stuck in here talking to you I’d rather you were clean.”

Astonishing. They were actually going to let him visit the refresher. Clearly the Resistance didn’t quite understand the concept of prisoners. Then again, if they were planning on keeping him for a while, Dameron had a point. It was likely more for their own benefit than for Hux’s.

Still. Hux would accept this gift gladly. Not that he would thank anyone for it, but regardless. 

“No guards?” he asked.

“Just me,” Dameron said, features set sternly, fingering the blaster at his hip.

Hux assessed him carefully, calculating his chances. Dameron was shorter than him but had a bulkier build; he wouldn’t be easy to overpower. Hux also knew that while Dameron was a pilot and not a soldier, he knew exactly how to handle that blaster. The place would be filled with Dameron’s companions, each of them well aware of the prize within their midst. 

No, this wasn’t the time to try anything foolish. Hux would keep his eyes open for opportunity but he wouldn’t take a stupid risk when the odds were so squarely set against him.

“Lead on, Commander,” Hux said with a mocking emphasis on the title. 

Dameron grabbed the back of his collar and shoved him through the door. They walked through the halls like that and though it was as humiliating as Dameron obviously meant it to be, Hux kept his chin raised and his eyes forward. He refused to be cowed by the dregs of society that called this base their own. 

He also made careful note of his surroundings, mapping out as much of the layout as he could. Could come in handy if that opportunity ever arose.

The refresher was empty, no doubt intentionally. Hux stood there while Dameron stared at him, arms crossed, and said, “Shall I get in fully dressed or do you plan on removing the binders?”

“It would be an improvement on your uniform,” Dameron said, but he aimed his blaster at Hux’s chest as he moved forward.

Hux made another split-second assessment. With Dameron this close, could he knock the blaster away before Dameron got a shot off? Could he wrestle him into submission? Then what? He’d have the blaster but Dameron would no doubt have started shouting bloody murder and there had been a crowd of pilots just outside the doors.

The binders fell to the floor and Hux chose not to make a move. The slight parting of Dameron’s lips and the dilating of his pupils indicated vague surprise. He had expected Hux to try something.

Well, maybe good behavior would help lull him into a false sense of security.

Hux began peeling off the uniform. “Planning on enjoying the view?”

Dameron’s gaze didn’t even flicker. “No offense, but your pasty, skinny ass doesn’t do anything for me.”

“You prefer dark and built?”

Twin spots of color rose in Dameron’s cheeks. Hux filed that away for later.

It appeared his suspicions had been correct. The correct answer was the less obvious, far more fun answer.

“I prefer non-mass murderers, actually,” Dameron said. 

“You must have a lot of self-loathing, then,” Hux said as he removed his pants, wearing only his undergarments now. “Or were you not responsible for the destruction of Starkiller?”

“They were soldiers in a war. They knew what that meant.”

Hux shrugged. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He stepped out of his underwear. 

Dameron let his eyes travel down the length of Hux’s body slowly, then back up again. He smirked.

Hux’s skin prickled, hairs rising on his arms, but he met Dameron’s eyes coolly. “See something you like?”

“Seen better.”

“Not recently, I expect.”

“More recently than you, I’d bet. Unless you schedule that in? ‘Blow job, ten minutes, before lunch.’”

“I prefer it to start my morning, actually,” Hux said, though of course that was a lie. He was aware that some officers had their… favorites, but Hux had always thought it best not to let the ranks see him in any way that might compromise his authority.

Dameron’s face did something odd, as though it were spasming as he attempted to discern if Hux was joking or not. He was likely imagining his beloved Finn forced to his knees before some lustful officer. Perhaps Hux himself, even.

Let him think that.

Dameron shoved Hux towards the nearest refresher stall, uncaring as Hux’s bare feet slid faintly on the tiles. “Get in. I don’t have all day to baby-sit you.”

“Hoping I’ll drown myself?” Hux let the spray fall on his face, enjoying the sensation of water on his skin. It wasn’t as hot as he would have liked but he imagined he could feel the dirt sluice away.

“After we went to so much trouble to capture you? Not likely.”

Dameron watched Hux the entire time. It was difficult not to feel unnerved. It was difficult to ignore the heavy weight of Dameron’s gaze, to pretend he didn’t care, that he wasn’t bothered. Hux wasn’t ashamed of his body but Dameron’s cool stare was aimed at degradation, at making Hux feel put in his place. 

Hux refused to let anyone, let alone this nobody pilot, put him anywhere. Still. He had rarely passed a more uncomfortable two minutes. Perhaps Dameron thought himself too good to lay hands on a prisoner but this entire excursion was an exercise in humiliation nonetheless.

Dameron shut off the water when he was ready, not when Hux was. Then he simply stood there, watching as Hux dripped all over the floor, as he began to shiver.

“Something you wanted?” Dameron asked, as if he didn’t know the answer.

“Perhaps you could hand me a towel, unless you’d like me to drip-dry. I imagine that won’t fit in with your busy schedule.”

“I was just thinking you could dry off on the walk back to your cell, but then, we don’t want to traumatize anyone with your scrawny ass.” Dameron’s gaze dropped down to Hux’s cock. “Or with that, for that matter.” 

“Suppose you think you’re clever,” Hux said as Dameron finally grabbed a towel from out of a locker.

Dameron threw it; it hit Hux partly in the face. 

Stars. He was as bad as a child. This was the pride of the Resistance.

Hux toweled himself off, then rubbed the damp towel over his hair. He was going to look a mess; there was nothing to be done for it. He doubted asking Dameron for a comb would get him anywhere. It was a particular cruelty, he felt, given that Dameron obviously understood the importance of proper hair care.

He eyed his soiled uniform in distaste. While he pondered the possibility of asking for laundry service, Dameron threw something else at him.

A set of ragged, worn clothes, pants and a shirt, that had clearly seen better days. It looked like something the Resistance mechanics would wear while they rolled around in grease beneath their ships.

“You have got to be joking,” Hux said.

“They’re clean,” Dameron said. The corner of his mouth was tilting upwards. He was enjoying this. 

Choosing to deny Dameron any further pleasure, Hux simply got dressed. The shirt was too big and hung loosely over his thin shoulders.

Dameron was almost smiling when he grabbed Hux’s wrists to reaffix the binders. He pushed Hux out the door with a hand to his upper back, right through the midst of a bunch of laughing pilots. 

“Make way for the general,” he said, and Hux didn’t need to be able to see him to hear the grin in his voice.

Hux could feel the traitorous flush in his fair skin but he looked down his nose at them all, affixing them with the disdain they deserved. He had had a good deal of practice at that sort of thing.

They had only just got back to Hux’s cell when some sort of alarm sounded. Dameron’s expression wavered; he was concerned.

“Trouble in paradise?” Hux asked. He wondered if he’d been found. If so, at least he would die clean, though he mourned the loss of his uniform. He would have preferred to die wearing the trappings of his station.

“I’ll be back,” Dameron said and locked him in.

-

No TIEs came soaring overhead to fire energy blasts at all the buildings, aiming to end Hux’s life before he gave up Snoke’s plans. Whatever it had been, the Resistance had taken care of it.

Dameron came in wearing that hideous orange flight suit, his hair sweaty and tangled. Apparently Hux didn’t even merit a trip to the refresher first. Such a double standard.

Hux waited for Dameron to sit opposite him and then said, “Kill any more soldiers who knew what they were getting into?”

A muscle twitched in Dameron’s jaw. “Ready to talk?”

So, no sharing, then. He supposed he should have expected that. “Oh, I am talking. Had a lovely chat with FN-2187, as a matter of fact. Did he tell you?”

“His name is Finn.”

Hux feigned surprise. “Is it really? Did you give him that? I imagine it isn’t the only thing you’d like to give him.”

“Shut your mouth.”

There it was. “Yes, I think you’d like to give him quite a lot of things, wouldn’t you? Mostly yourself. Only… he’s not interested. You aren’t the one who turns his head. Who is, I wonder? The scavenger, perhaps?”

Dameron’s tan skin flushed in an obvious tell. This was too easy.

“Yes, the scavenger,” Hux said, letting the words curl off his tongue languorously. “Pretty thing, a bit small for my taste but still, pretty. I’ll bet he’s so good to her, makes the loveliest, filthiest sounds spill from her lips at night.”

“I said shut the hell up!” Dameron had sprang from his seat, leaning forward on the table until their faces were separated by nothing but air. He was furious, his cheeks flushed, nostrils flaring.

Hux held Dameron’s gaze. It seemed he had struck a nerve. “I’m not sure I bleed as attractively as you do but you’re welcome to find out.”

For a moment Hux truly thought Dameron would do it, would punch him in his teeth, perhaps, or slam his nose into the table. Dameron’s hands were actually shaking and his breath was hot in Hux’s face.

And then he held himself back, sank back down into his chair. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the table. 

“If you won’t do this the easy way,” he said, “we can rip what we want to know out of your head. It isn’t pleasant, I can tell you that from experience.”

Hux knew it as well. What Dameron didn’t know was that Hux’s mind would be far more difficult to violate than his own had been. Hux had practiced. The struggle had been worth the immense satisfaction when he had finally been able to foil Kylo Ren’s attempts to break in.

That wouldn’t save him forever. Eventually, he knew, he would give up everything, just as Dameron had. But at least he would make them work for it.

“I’m curious why you’ve waited so long,” Hux said. “Your sweet Light Side users quaking at the very idea?”

“They’ll do what needs to be done. Rey, for one, will be more than happy to. You’re a face she can put to Finn’s trauma, someone to hold responsible.”

“Is that what I am to you? A face for Finn’s trauma? Or just your own?”

Dameron’s fingers flexed around the table edge. “Like I said. We can do this the hard way.”

He got up and left.

Hux considered that a victory.

-

No Jedi, master or apprentice, appeared the next day, either. Only Dameron. Hux couldn’t say he was disappointed.

He had even been in the refresher this time. He was wearing a plain shirt and pants, heavy boots, shirtsleeves rolled up, his hair in those perfect waves he probably spent longer on than he wanted anyone to know.

“You didn’t have to get dressed up for me,” Hux said as Dameron pulled out the other chair. 

“Lucky I didn’t then.”

Hux rested his forearms on the table, the binders making a slight clanging sound against the table. “So how is FN-2187? Excuse me, Finn.”

“You’re awfully curious about him. I’m starting to think you had a thing for him.”

So weak, Hux thought. Dameron couldn’t even keep up this game of wits without hesitantly tip-toeing around that unspoken question, _did you touch Finn?_

It was more fun to let Dameron wonder. “Captain Phasma believed him to be officer material, you know. Perhaps it was lucky he revealed his deficiencies before we wasted any more time and energy on him.”

“You didn’t deserve him.”

“No? Who does, then? You? Clearly he doesn’t think so or he’d be in your bed. No, not you, who gave up your beloved Resistance at the slightest provocation from Kylo Ren, who screamed your secrets for all to hear.”

Dameron hit harder than Hux would have expected. His head snapped back and blood trickled from his split lip.

Hux licked at the metallic tang of it. “So some of you do stoop, after all. What would your precious Finn think of you now, I wonder?”

Dameron grabbed Hux by the collar and dragged him around the table, shoving him up against the wall. His wrists, still in the binders, caught uncomfortably between the unyielding surface and his body.

“Go on, then, rough me up, Dameron. You obviously want to.”

Dameron’s voice was a low, enraged hiss beneath Hux’s ear. “You’re so concerned with what I deserve, but what about what _you_ deserve? You destroyed an entire system with the push of a button!”

“Well, it wasn’t quite that simple, and I didn’t physically ‘push the button’, as you put it.”

“Millions of lifeforms are dead because of you! Innocents who had nothing to do with any of this, good people who were my friends--”

“Your friends were idiots who made the choice to follow that decrepit government you called the New Republic.”

Dameron leaned his weight forward, crushing Hux against the wall. “Don’t push me, Hux.”

“Why not? Afraid of what you’ll do to me? Afraid that you _want_ to do it?”

“I’m not like you.”

“No? And where has that got you? It’s still put Finn in someone else’s bed and you don’t seem very happy. Wouldn’t it make you feel better if you made me _hurt,_ made me suffer for what I did to you? To Finn? Or as I knew him, FN-2187.”

Dameron grabbed a fistful of Hux’s hair and pressed his face into the rough wall, his cheek rubbing painfully against it. Hux tried to push back against him and got absolutely nowhere; Dameron’s body was an unyielding force behind him. 

Pilot or not, Dameron was strong. Hux was glad he had decided against testing him; no doubt it would have been an embarrassing failure. He wondered if Dameron trained with the traitor; he imagined them in their shirtsleeves, sweating, grappling. Dameron probably got off on it afterwards.

“I think the better question is, do you want me to hurt you, General?” Dameron’s lips brushed against the back of Hux’s neck; there was mockery in his tone, amidst the anger. 

Hux refused to let Dameron turn this on him. “I think you’d enjoy it. I think you’ve dreamed about doing it, imagined my blood on your hands, a bit of petty revenge. It would feel so… gratifying.”

“You’re a disgusting piece of filth,” Dameron hissed, “and you deserve everything that’s coming to you.”

“I expect so,” Hux allowed, with little care. “I’m curious, though. Are you going to ask me the question or will you wait to see if your Jedi friends will find the answer themselves?”

Dameron was silent for a long time. “What question?” he said finally, as if he thought he knew already.

“If I fucked your friend. If I forced him to his knees and made him--”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Dameron slid his hand down from Hux’s hair, squeezing it around the back of his neck.

“Maybe I know how he looks with his lips spread around someone’s cock; maybe I know the sound he makes when he comes, better than you ever will.”

Dameron’s hand tightened around Hux’s neck. “I’ll kriffing kill you if you touched him.”

Hux laughed, the sound cutting short as Dameron’s thumb dug painfully into the side of his throat. “You won’t do a thing, you pathetic--”

“Do you want to try me?” Dameron’s knee pressed between Hux’s legs, the blaster strapped to his leg an awkward pressure against Hux’s thigh.

 _Possibly_ , Hux thought. “If I fucked him, and you fuck me, is that almost like you’ve fucked him, do you think? By proxy?”

“Fuck you!” Dameron said, using all his weight to force Hux forward against the wall. “Fuck you, Hux, you kriffing asshole.”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? I mean, unless you can’t get it up?” Hux’s lips curled into something that was almost a smile, though Dameron couldn’t see it. “Not that that seems to be a problem you’re having.”

Maybe Dameron liked it a bit rough; maybe that turned him on. Maybe it was the idea of humiliating Hux a bit more, of really sticking it to him, to be blunt. Maybe it had been a long time and the poor man was desperate. Maybe he was thinking about the traitor.

Maybe, though he suspected he might be flattering himself overmuch, it was just Hux. 

“Is that what you want, huh?” Dameron’s breath was warm on Hux’s skin. “You want me to fuck you, Hux? You sure seem fixated on it.”

“You can call me Finn if you want. I won’t tell.”

Dameron said something in some crude alien language Hux didn’t recognize, though it sounded insulting, whatever it was. He pressed his forearm horizontally against the base of Hux’s neck, holding him there, and squeezed Hux’s ass with his other hand. 

“Why should I deprive you of what you want?” he asked, in Basic again now. “When you’re begging me for it? I’m a nice guy, that’s what they say anyway, I like to give people what they want.”

“You’re a nice guy, all right,” Hux said, struggling in Dameron’s grip. “All your pretty words but you’re not so noble now, not when you’ve got me at your--”

And Dameron _bit_ him, fucking bit him, right on the sensitive skin behind Hux’s ear.

Hux swore at him but Dameron was already pulling down Hux’s pants, yanking them forcefully down his thighs. His bare skin prickled in the sudden influx of cool air but after only a few seconds Dameron was grinding against him, his erection hard against the flesh of Hux’s ass.

“Is this what you want?” Dameron murmured, voice low. “You want me to give it to you, General?”

“Pretty sure you don’t give a damn either way,” Hux said, pushing back against him.

Besides which, Hux certainly wasn’t admitting that right at this moment, yes, he thought he would rather like to be fucked up the ass by the Resistance’s best pilot. He didn’t hate himself quite that much, thank you, and he doubted Dameron’s ego needed the boost.

Dameron dragged one finger down the cleft of Hux’s ass, easing up the pressure on Hux’s neck just enough that Hux could turn his head, watch Dameron behind him. Dameron was licking his palm, sucking two fingers into his mouth, smirking a little as he lowered his hand, clearly aware of the appealing picture he presented.

Hux was… not immune. His cock twinged where it was trapped between his body and the wall. 

Maybe he liked it a bit rough, too.

He drew his lip between his teeth, bit down, when Dameron pushed one fingertip inside him, barely waiting before he pushed in a second. Fuck, _fuck,_ Hux was certainly not well prepared for this, hadn’t had anyone –

But that hardly mattered, he had been the one who pushed. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that he had pushed enough. 

He wanted to moan, wanted to sigh out loud at the pain-pleasure-pain of it, but the thought of giving Dameron the satisfaction made him continue to bite his lip instead. He could still feel the sting of his split lip, taste the tang of blood, and he knew he was making it worse.

He faced the wall again, dropped his forehead down until he was leant against it. Dameron’s thigh was wedged between Hux’s legs, still with that kriffing blaster in the way, and he thought he’d have bruises, there on his leg, on his neck, everywhere Dameron dug in with his fingers. 

His fingers, kriff, Dameron had clearly had enough because he pulled out and then there was just the rustle of cloth as Dameron opened his pants.

“Shall I get you started?” Hux said, looking at Dameron again, watching him lazily pump a hand over his cock. “Or perhaps you don’t need any further motivation.”

“As appealing as the idea of shutting you up is, I’d rather not have my dick bitten off, thanks.”

Hux licked the blood from his lips. “What a terrible suggestion.”

“Just fucking shut up already,” Dameron said and shoved in without any warning.

Hux grunted, caught off-guard, and the deep burn of Dameron’s cock was less unwelcome than it should have been. He closed his eyes for a second, felt Dameron pull out partway and then ram back in, starting up a quick, even rhythm that had Hux shuddering forward against the wall.

Dameron had dropped both hands to Hux’s hips, clenching tightly, and he was breathing into the back of Hux’s neck. He still hadn’t got rid of the krffing blaster, still strapped there to his thigh, and Hux could feel it every time Dameron thrusted into him. He could feel the insistent pressure of Dameron’s fingers, the stretch of his body around Dameron’s cock, the rough wall against his skin.

He was breathing raggedly, listening to the matching harshness of Dameron’s exhales, and he desperately wanted to be able to touch himself. The binders were still trapping his wrists and Hux couldn’t get quite the right angle, couldn’t – 

And Dameron had to realize it, had to know, only he just didn’t care.

Hux tried thrusting his hips forward, thinking if maybe he could just find some kriffing pressure, he could…

Dameron was chuckling into Hux’s shirt, keeping up his steady, unyielding pace. “Did you think you were gonna get to come, too, General?”

Hux kept his lips pressed tightly together, afraid that if he opened his mouth to speak he would whimper or make some other equally humiliating sound. He actually bit his own tongue to keep from crying out as Dameron’s movements grew rougher, more forceful.

“Now you’ve got nothing to say, huh? General Hux?”

Hux was certain he had never liked less the sound of his own name than when it fell from Dameron’s lips, mocking, like an insult. “I’m afraid,” he said, carefully gauging the words, squeezing his eyes tight, concentrating on the dig of Dameron’s fingertips into his waist, “you aren’t as skilled as you’d like to think.”

“Aren’t I?” Dameron said and then he was reaching around, circling his fingers around Hux’s cock like a gift.

“Oh, fuck,” Hux said, half a moan, hating himself for it. He came in three quick strokes, a twist of Dameron’s wrist.

Dameron bit down on the back of Hux’s shoulder and as if that was all he had needed, to think he’d won the game, to hold Hux off and then make him come when _he_ wished it, make Hux come first, Dameron let himself go. 

He was leaning his full weight into Hux again, crushing him into the wall. Hux’s wrists felt painful, the binders having trapped him at all the wrong angles. It was a relief when Dameron finally moved away.

Hux sagged against the wall, his pants around his ankles, Dameron’s come leaking down his leg. He turned his head, looked at Dameron standing there with his fly open, wavy hair damp with sweat, shame written all over his face.

Hux felt his lips curve into a smile.

“Was it good for you, too, Commander?” he asked.

Dameron was flushed red, hot and embarrassed, and he wasn’t even looking at Hux anymore, as if he couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes. He zipped up his fly. “Fuck you.”

Well, they had already accomplished that, hadn’t they? “If I’m going to die here, I suppose I should thank you for letting me have one last shag.”

“Clean yourself up,” Dameron muttered and crossed the room in a few long strides, disappearing through the door.

Hux finally gave in and let his knees wobble, sank down onto the dirty floor. He felt like a mess. He was a mess. He hadn’t intended… Well, he hadn’t intended any of this, really, and he wasn’t exactly certain how to process it.

He was fairly sure of one thing, though.

Dameron had not won the game. 

-

Hux didn’t really know what he had expected. He didn’t see Dameron for two days, just the droids who brought his meals and removed the waste. Someone else came in to escort Hux to the refresher and it was both less enjoyable and less humiliating an experience. Hux wondered if his face was bruised, if they could see his cut lip or the imprint of Dameron’s fingertips on his neck above his collar. No one commented.

And then there he was, on the morning of the third day since their altercation, Poe Dameron, looking just the same aside from how he didn’t seem to want to meet Hux’s eyes.

He brought the scavenger with him.

A chill went down Hux’s spine but he refused to let them see him waver. He was a general of the First Order, son of Brendol Hux, and he would keep his pride. 

Even if his pride was all he had left.

“No FN-2187? I would have thought he’d like to see this.”

Rey’s pretty face could turn as cold and stern as any officer’s. “Finn’s busy. I’m afraid he doesn’t have time for you.”

“Ouch,” Hux said.

There weren’t enough chairs. Dameron, gentleman that he was – or pretended to be, to be more accurate – let Rey sit. He loomed behind her shoulder, though the effect was less than it could be given both his underwhelming height and how uncomfortable he seemed to be in the room.

Hux wondered why he had even bothered. The promise of a good show, perhaps? Hoping he would get to see Hux scream? Or maybe he was simply the back-up. Though what Dameron thought he would be able to do if Hux overpowered a Jedi apprentice quite escaped him. 

“I’m not sure we’ve been properly introduced,” Hux said to Rey. “General Hux. A pleasure, I’m sure.”

“I don’t need to know your name to do what I’m about to,” Rey said.

Tough girl. Hux almost admired her.

Dameron clearly did.

Hux could show her everything. He could push his memory of Dameron fucking him against the wall right to the front of his mind, no barriers, let Rey see every thrust, every second of it. Dameron must realize that.

Hux let his gaze slide over to Dameron again. 

Dameron still refused to look at him.

He was afraid, Hux realized. He was afraid. He was afraid of what Hux would show Rey. He was afraid of how it would make her look at him.

He was afraid that she would tell FN-2187.

Dameron was the captor and Hux was the captive and yet the best card lay in Hux’s hand. He could break Dameron, if he wished, ruin his virtuous image in the eyes of the people he cared for most, or Hux could choose not to and let Dameron live with that, let him live with knowing this person he hated had saved him.

Hux straightened his back and met Rey’s eyes squarely. “Ready when you are,” he said.

**_End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you go, possibly the trashiest thing I've ever written, which is saying something! I have no shame, however, I assure you, and this was a hell of a lot of fun. If you would like to wallow in the dumpster with me, you can find me on [Tumblr](http://serceleste.tumblr.com)!


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